Violent Delights
by lunawritings
Summary: Valyr Archson is the daughter of a rebel Imperial medical officer who came into the possession of The Child. Her escape leads to an alluringly violent destiny. Slow-burn Din Djarin/OC. Eventual Mature.
1. The Eve of Revelation

_Note: Welcome! A brand-new fanfiction packed full of Star Wars mythology, comic and lore. This will be a **mature** fanfiction with sexuality, adult themes and violence. It is a slow burn. The dialogue isn't 100% like the tv show as its been adapted to a prose-style narrative not a script. _

* * *

»»—- Violent Delights —-««

_I cannot let you burn me up,  
nor can I resist you.  
No mere human can stand in a fire  
and not be consumed._

_A. S. Byatt, Possession._

* * *

Chapter One: The Eve of Revelation

**Anthan Spire Medical Bay**

Far across the galaxy, in the Outer Rim System, was the planet Anthan Prime. It was one of the few gaseous territories colonised by a Near-Human species known as Mykes. As a rich species, they catered for the upper class as it kept their connections rich; thriving with top-tier technology and attention.

The Mykes investment transformed the planet in a vacation resort for the Empire's bourgeoisie.

With twenty-seven moons, every balcony and window could be used as a seat for the cinematic glory of the galaxy. With the rich, came their alluringly nefarious lifestyle. The resort was rumoured to cater several cartels as well as white-collar criminals. Money bought ascendancy, menace and confidentiality. There were many evils at work in the Anthan Spire Resort which was why they had an extensive employment of healers.

With a white gown draped over their slender figures, the healers existed like a painting on a wall; a marble, white wall connected to pristine architecture.

Valyr took pleasure in the chameleon-esque attire.

She stared out of a glass wall; into the great black sea of the universe. The stars flickered half-heartedly. Valyr knew they were the dead ones. If she had the blessing of eternity, she could sit and wait for the stars to truly go out instead of wondering whether a great ship was tainting her view or if the star had experienced an off-day; not quite in the mood to burn.

Clicking her fingers, she readjusted her gaze down to her clipboard.

"Benevolence be with you," a chirpy voice said beside her. "A group of Orlaks docked this morning." Hek was a healer from the planet Coruscant. Her purple skin looked beautiful against the white uniform; she gained many admirers, some more pesky than others.

"And with you," Valyr grinned. "We have a herd of chevs who arrived last week. If a battle breaks out at one of the feasts, we will have a bounty of injuries."

"Chevs are meant to be sentient things," Hek pushed a red curl back inside her veil. "The only thing sentient about them are their bed manners."

"Let us hope they rip into the Orlaks, then." Valyr left the comfortable space beside the wall and followed her accomplice down the Western corridor. "I had a two-month old yogre last night with colostomy changes every thirty minutes. If I don't get my hands on something bloody, then I'll chew my own leg up just to stitch it back together."

"On the Gods, your aspirations are so small."

"They're reserved. I can't beg for an injury so severe that a guest must be bed-ridden for weeks." Valyr was reserved and plain; happy floating through the healing bay in her own pocket of existence.

"I will have a surgical procedure. My name will be printed in the Benevolent Paper next week, you'll see. I wish you were competitive and then you'd be so much more exciting. You've never landed your name in the newspaper and you've been here, what? Three months?"

"I enjoy speaking to my patients, not itching to get them unconscious so I can slice open their chest." They entered the employee lounge, greeted by a pleasant roar of chatter and early diners. Time worked differently mid-space, especially as Anthan Prime was surrounded by three suns. The Spire created its own evening-to-night routine with holographic windows.

Valyr was always on alert when the morning came. She could be relied upon to be stood waiting by the glass, watching the galaxy shimmer back into existence.

"Benevolence be with you!" the head-chef yakked at her and Hek. "Fried rantos pancakes for breakfast, ladies!"

Valyr headed to the back of the queue and grabbed a tray. "And with you, Kronos," she smiled down at her. "Sounds divine."

The room was full of movement. Interns rushed to shove their pastries and herbal drinks down their throats before sprinting out the door to find their attendants. Surgeries were first come, first served on the Anthan Spire.

"How do you know you'll have a surgery?" Valyr frowned down at Hek.

"Do you believe I'll divulge my secrets with you? You'll have to just watch from the gallery."

"I'm not kissing your ego. Tell me. Now."

"Screw an attending and then you'll find out."

Valyr's mouth dropped open. She blinked quickly, watching Hek's cheeky smirk grow. Infuriated annoyance swelled inside of Valyr's chest. She took ahold of Hek's arm and pulled her back. "You can't sleep your way into getting what you want."

"How do you think I got a first class in all of my degrees?" Hek said. "And to the top of the list out of Coruscant?"

"You're sinful."

"And you're boring. When have you ever used your charm to get what you want. Oh, yes. Never," she stuck her lilac tongue out and blew. Spit speckled Valyr's cheeks. She scoffed at the healer and shoved in front of her. The chef slid a hefty pancake onto her plate and drizzled red syrup over its middle. Kronos was a plump half-hutt with dazzling red lipstick to match her crimson tail.

"Get them berries in your girl," Kronos said, heaping a dump of fruit onto Valyr's plate. "They're a natural aphrodisiac, y'know."

Valyr snorted. "I did not know. I don't think I'll be needing that, Kronos."

"No? Your friend looks like she's got all the aphrodisiac she needs." They turned to watch Hek who had left the queue and was in a deep conversation with a Twi'Lek attendant healer. Valyr knew his name was Gon. She also knew he used his position to get into the knickers of surgery-hungry healers.

"What are they serving this morning?" Gon asked, his hand sliding up Hek's wrist.

"Pancakes," she said, fluttering her long lashes.

"Save me a seat," he squeezed her sumptuously. "Benevolence be with you."

"And with you." The attendant turned on his head and disappeared from the room, drawing the attention of many and leaving Hek with bright red cheeks. The Cruscant healer was humming as she filled two plates with food and met Valyr's disapproving gaze.

"The bags under his eyes tell me he hasn't slept properly in days. I very much doubt he's losing sleep due to stress."

The pair found a small table beside a glass wall. Valyr touched it with her fingertips causing it to shudder and shiver, then destabilise to reveal the Anthan planet below. It was a whirlwind of gases; pinks and oranges swept into great storms, staring up at the Spire like an all-seeing eye.

Valyr idly picked at her breakfast, deeply occupied by the desire to see past the planet and into space. She decided she would go to the Eastern wing first, that's where she could see the stars as she checked her patients.

"Hurry up," Hek suddenly urged.

"What?" she choked.

"Come on. Gon's coming back any moment."

"You really are unbelievable."

The women stared at one another for several moments. Valyr's intense stare forced Hek to crumble into an embarrassed, flustered mess. "I received a letter from my Mother yesterday," she muttered, aggressively biting into her pancake. "She wants me to find a husband by the end of Boonta Eve."

Valyr sighed for her friend. Coming from a strict family was as painful as it was coming from family who didn't care at all. She leaned on her elbows. "Gon isn't marital material. He's a whore."

"All the Gods," Hek groaned. "Can't he be a whore and be mine?"

"A man can be a whore for you and you alone, but not a whore for anything with female body parts." As she pushed her plate away, another healer approached them. She was carrying a handful of clipboards and scanning chits. Valyr eyed them with an enticed gleam.

"You, my friend," the healer said. "Are going to be kissing my feet when you see what I have."

Valyr laughed and took one of the sheets from her. "Tell me it's a bullet wound."

"The medical Gods have shone down on us. It might even be surgical!" the woman continued. Valyr lowered the sheet, glancing back at Hek. "Well, I don't know if I'm ready to perform a surgery actually."

"You are!" she cried, pulling Valyr's gaze back up to her.

Hek stuttered incredulously at the pair of them. "I'm ready to do a surgery today. I can do it instead."

The healer glanced down at her. "I've heard a rumour you're on Doctor Gon's service? Besides, I'm sure you'll hear the details. Word seems to travel fast around here," distaste flashed in her eyes. "As do the sexually transmitted diseases."

Hek's face dropped, her mouth hanging wide. The healer took the sheet from Valyr's hands and turned on her heal with her head held high. Valyr couldn't see her face beneath the veil, but imagined it was hiding a smirk.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt for Hek's burnt pride, Valyr rose to her feet. "Save me a pancake if they have any for lunch. Not sure how long I'll be."

Narrowing her eyes, Hek huffed. "Only so you can choke on it."

"Like you do with Gon's cock?"

Hek clenched her teeth together, flaring up with embarrassment. Just as the brown eyed girl went for her friend's throat, Valyr dove sideways. "Benevolence be with you!" she snorted and escaped from the staffroom, listening to the woman swear loudly.

* * *

**Nevarro**

Greef Karga distractedly fiddled with the stem of his metal goblet. It was warm through the tip of his grootslang-skin gloves. They were tatty; most of the epidermis and hide had worn away long ago so only thin membrane protected his fingers. His figured he could wrangle a new pair soon, even if it was off the limp body of some poor bastard.

He eyed a stocky man sat at the bar. His gloves were dark green; expensive. With a click of his tongue, he took note of it and returned to his drink. Several clients had entered and spoken with him that morning and not one offered him a drink. It would've been a pleasant gesture to have someone else giving him a cup of hot herbs. Alas, credits were all his clients ultimately cared for.

"Another, Julb," he raised a finger at the Noghri bartender. They were on a first name basis. Karga turned back to the Mandalorian. There was no point in offering him a drink; he was untouchable in every emotional and physical sense.

"Not thirsty," the Mandalorian said.

With a wry grin, Karga leaned forwards. "Fine. There is one job I have. It's in two parts."

"Am I collecting decommissioned droid halves?"

Karga slid a sleek holographic device across the table. It hissed on the metal surface, coming to a sharp stop in the Mandalorian's hand.

Julb appeared beside, pouring a steaming stream of herbal tea into Kargg's cup. It frothed and bubbled before settling. A delicious waft of honey slipped under Din Djarin's helmet. He tilted his head, pushing the smell away and out of touch.

His agent took a sip. The silence became tediously painful as Din waited, remaining still and unmoving.

"There's no puck," Kargg looked at the Mandalorian over the rim of his goblet. "It's face to face. Direct commission."

Straightening, the Mandalorian's intrigue grew. It had been many moons since he'd retrieved an underground bounty. Thieves and scoundrels were smooth bounties. Most were sloppy fools who came willingly when they discovered who and what he was. "How much?" he could scarcely guess how many units he'd earn. It made his teeth clench. "Who is it?"

"Deep pocket," Karga said.

"It's underworld?"

"It has no chain code. Attain the first and then the second," he sipped his drink, pursing his lips on the scolding sting which accompanied it. "Do you want the chits or not?"

Din Djarin's steel armour made a crystallised metallic clink as he wrapped his fingers around the puck. He slipped it into a pocket on his belt. The honey aroma was getting to his head; he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a moment to breathe in earthy pleasures.

Karga clicked his tongue, shooting a look around the bar. They'd drawn the attention of many guests. The Mandalorian's cool voice was enough to do so. He only spoke when necessary. It wasn't good for protecting Karga's clients privacy, but Din Djarin's ability to scatter every peeping weasel was a blessing.

"It's one click west. The old Imperial Hub. They're waiting."

Din Djarin gave him a curt nod and rose from the booth. The other drinkers and bounty hunters attempted to regain a sense of normality, having been caught snooping on his business. He shot an annoyed glare across the room, earning an uncomfortable sea of glances.

Outside, the weather was pleasantly dry. Sand crunched under his heavy boots as well as mud and bits of debris dropped by thieves or broken ship parts. It was an ugly city, full of ugly people. Only the surface though. Underground was where Din found true beauty. It was all he really knew; the caves, tunnels and rivers of the Mandalorian hideout.

Secrecy was both a blessing and a curse.

He rounded a corner, sensing a dozen eyes watching him as he neared the Imperial Hub. He came to a stop outside of its rusty door and waited in distrust as a doorbell droid shot out of the wall, obnoxiously shoving itself into his face.

_"He chuba da naga _?" the tt-8l droid barked._ (What do you want?)_

They were tattletale droids; nosy and irritating in their questioning. Din tilted his head and clenched his teeth as it continued to speak. It was trained to be provoking. Usually to protect the inhabitants inside from nefarious knockers.

_"Chas po kuta coo,"_ it cranked. _(I'm watching you)._

Din took the metal disc from his pocket. He flashed it up, watching the flashing red of the gatekeeper droid sparkle. It was like an insect; its tiny head was packed to the brim with eyeballs. As with an insect, it wasn't strong or smart enough to survive the hard blast of the Mandalorian's fist.

_"Ya ba dookie… Client won neechee kochba mu shanee wy tonny wya uska_," it said._ (If you betray him… the Client will put a bounty on you so high that every hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you.)_

Din slid the chit beneath his cape. He nodded at the pesky droid and said: _"Uth na meeto numaa." (That won't happen.) _

He entered the dim hallway and fell into line behind a power droid. It gonked through the darkness, bleeping and shuffling quietly. The atmosphere was tense. Din sensed the Imperialistic occupation just ahead and entered the reception area with as much stipulation as a creature did into a slaughter-house.

A wiry man sat at a desk in the middle of the room. He was old and weak, and it wouldn't take much out of Din's day to kill. He saunted forwards, eying the stormtroopers on either side of him. All gazes were on him and in return, he watched everything else.

"Greef Karga said you were coming," the man leered.

Din tilted his head towards the Imperial Army troops. "What else did he say?" The locals called them bucketheads and rightly so. Din hadn't had the pleasure of knocking a pair of them out yet, but he wouldn't hesitate to do so if it came down to it. "He said you were the best in the parsec," the client continued, his voice rattling through Din's helmet like a slithering serpent.

A door on Din's right slid open. He whipped out his blaster, aiming it at the scurrying man who had appeared.

"Freeze!" a stormtrooper cried. Din revealed another weapon, aiming it at the bucket atop the soldier's ugly armour.

The new stranger raised his hands and dropped to his knees. "Wait!" he blubbered, "no, no, no!"

"Drop your weapons," another trooper ordered Din. It was ignored to their disgruntled annoyance. They edged closer to the Mandalorian until the client got to his feet with his hands poised.

"Now, now," he bowed. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

"What is this?" Din demanded, clicking the trigger of his blaster.

"This is Doctor Pershing. He's with us so you'll have to excuse his lack of decorum. He's quite enthusiastic about the whole affair. It seems his enthusiasm outweighs discretion." The client edged around his desk and approached Din, disregarding the weapons and showing fearlessness that unsettled the Mandalorian's core. "Please lower your blaster," he said.

"Tell them to lower theirs first," Din shot a dirty look to his left.

The stormtrooper clutched his weapon. "Like you have permission to give orders. We have you four to one."

"I like those odds," he returned icily.

The client raised his hands again and the stormtroopers took their silent order. An annoyed shift emitted from them, but Din was able to stand straight again and return his blaster to his belt. "What else did he say?" he asked, following the client back to his desk.

"He also said you were expensive. Very expensive. I have something I think you will like. Please," he pointed to a vacant chair, "sit."

Din did so but managed to shoot a foul glance at each being in the room. He let them know he was posed for whatever mini battle their threw at him. The only living thing that would leave that hub would be him.

"Let's settle down," the client said, sensing the affair. He fiddled with a drawer at his feet and took out a thin slather of metal. His clinked on the table. "Beskar?" Din stilled, withholding his desire to grab it.

"Go ahead. It's real, I assure you."

Beskar was one of the toughest metals in the galaxy. Its existence was legendary among Din's people as well as the universe. Able to withstand the shot from a blaster and repel the harshest of beatings; it was a desirable asset for any Mandalorian. Din turned it thrice in his hand.

"That is only a down payment. Take is as a gesture of goodwill," the client soothed. "I have a camtono of Beskar waiting just for you upon the delivery of the assets. Collect them separately, but they must return to me together."

Din enjoyed the cool silver in his fingers. "Does it matter who I collect first?"

"Without the first, you cannot locate the second. It had all been a rather excessively tedious affair."

"Alive?"

"Yes. Both alive. Unless you run into complications then termination of both assets is necessary."

Doctor Pershing shifted in the corner of the room, wringing his hands together at the client's words. He wore round sunglasses which hid most of his face. Din knew more than anyone that a hidden expression was more powerful than an exposed one. The doctor wanted them alive. The client was less sympathetic.

"Alive," Din repeated.

"Although, I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. If you terminate the assets, then we will offer a lowered fee if you return with proof."

"That is not what we agreed upon," Din said. "Full fee."

"I'm simply being pragmatic. Some things are better jumping than limp."

Sliding his gaze back to the client, Din clenched his teeth for several moments. He needed that Beskar steel. His armour was wearing thin and wouldn't last much longer. Compared to the other members of the creed, he was materialistically lower tier. Appearances were both everything and nothing to a Mandalorian. "Let's see the puck," he said.

"I'm afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking chit for the first asset. Once you attain them, you must acquire the tracking fob from them in order to retrieve the second."

"The first is what?"

"Human," the client shifted his gaze to the doctor.

"And the second?"

"We can only provide the last four digits of its intergalactical code. Which is why you must complete the first retrieval."

"Only its age? What is it?"

"They're fifty years old," he said. "Between the first retrieval and the collection of the fob, a man of your skill should make such a hefty task short work."

Tilting his head, Din rose from the desk. He disregarded the lost look of the doctor. What was a feebly weak man doing inside an Imperialistic base? It was neither Din's business, nor his issue. Yet, as he sauntered out of the hub and into the bustling sandstreet, he was compelled by the mission ahead. The first asset would be easy. Many were taken aback by the appearance of a Mandalorian as they seldom appeared out of their underground hovels.

The second asset was middle-aged. He would be as weak as the client, with deep wrinkles and old bones. Din flexed his fingers around the Beskar steel in his grip. He should've hidden it away in his pocket as thieves were riot in the little city, but he was far too proud.

* * *

**Anthan Spire Medical Bay**

"His vitals are steady," Valyr commented to her superior officer. She scribbled several notes; his heartbeats (he had three), chemical levels and brain waves. Her attending healer nodded, "Keep an eye on him for about an hour. His brother is one of our highest patrons."

Valyr adjusted the bags of medicine dripping into his arms so they dribbled into the catheter slower. It was rather sick that the healers were ordered to pay more attention to the richer guests due to their wealth. However, she had decided to occupy a capitalist city for the time being and had to follow the rules.

The patient didn't have many guests. Obviously, his brother had popped in twice, but the pool and leisure centre were far too tempting for him to stay long. Last Valyr heard, he was in the brothel on the seventeenth floor, paying for a bottle of champagne that would've taken Valyr years to save up for. She leaned against the side glass wall and exhaled, watching the stars.

"I'd say the view was one of the best just to impress you," she said. "But I imagine someone such as yourself would look at this and compare it to dirt under your shoe."

She hummed gently for several minutes, noting the patient's breathing and doing her job. As long as she was out of sight and out of any. Anthan newspapers, she was pleasantly rested.

A middle-aged man appeared in the doorway to her surprise. He was slightly scruffy with old shoes and a second-hand duster coat covering his entire body. Valyr eyed him and smiled.

"Morning," she said.

"Aye," he nodded. "Mind if you leave us?"

Valyr shook her head. "I'm terribly sorry, I'm unable to leave this room. He has to be kept under surveillance."

"That's a real shame," he muttered and shoved his hand into his pocket. Valyr straightened, her eyes darting down to the tracking fob he pulled out. It beeped erratically, speeding up with every step his took forwards. She swallowed and took a step sideways.

The bounty hunter whipped a hand out, pointing at her gruffly. "Watch it. Don't move."

"Please don't kill him," she begged. The fob sped up as he neared the middle of the room.

"Let me get my tracking chit, darling," he gutturally wavered, inching towards her. Valyr's eyes darted down to his thighs, feet and stance. He was a sloppy, half-drunk bounty hunter looking for a bit of cash. "No one has to know I was 'ere. Patients die all the time, don't they?"

Valyr feigned fear. Her eyes widened, filling with shining tears. With a shaky breath, she took a step sideways and lowered her hands. The bounty hunter's eyes slid over her figure. He was figuring out what kind of body was hidden underneath and how easy it would be to overpower a healer. Especially one as pitifully frightened as her.

With a semi-muffled sob, Valyr edged towards the wall. The hunter crept towards the bed and took out a carving knife. It was rusty, appearing to be from the crevices of an old kitchen. A twisted grin swam across his lips as he dragged his eyes away from Valyr and down to the patient.

"You leave his things on 'im?" he prodded the bedsheets, pulling them up to reveal a blue medical gown. "They in 'ere?" Moving to the cupboard, he opened it and shoved his entire face in. A sickening waft of sweat swam up Valyr's nostrils as he whipped his head back up at her, prodding her for an answer. "Well?" he barked.

She jumped and whimpered. "The b-bottom drawer. They're all in the bottom drawer… please don't hurt me."

Sliding his attention back to it, he snorted half-heartedly. "Just you wait. I'll come back for you. I'll be able to afford one o' these rooms, then."

As smooth as a wave was on a beach in the midsummer sunlight, Valyr's petrified expression slipped off her face. She narrowed her eyes and pushed her flute sleeve up her arm, revealing a slender dagger. It was tiny, similar to a cheese knife rather than anything terrifying. With a swooping diving, she took hold of the hunter's neck and wrenched him back, so she had him trapped between her legs.

With her teeth inches from her ear, she pressed her face against his and inhaled the foul stench of his confusion.

"W-What you doin'?" he stuttered and attempted to move. She wrapped her legs tighter around him and used her other arm to lock his head in an unmovable position.

"Good luck spending those units in hell," she whispered and slid the dagger down his cheek. He struggled for several second and fell limp in her grasp. Valyr hurried to her feet and pull him towards the corner of the room where the industrial rubbish shoot was located. Only personnel could access the opening. With her I.D card it revealed itself and swallowed the sweaty, limp body of the hunter.

There was a crushing, grinding noise and then a horrific squelch. She pressed the compression button and then the removal one. The shoot's lid slammed shut and she darted to the window, grasping her skrits with one hand and shoving her veil out of her face.

Pressing her sweaty nose to the glass, she watched a frozen hunk of rubbish falling down, down, down to the surface of Anthan. It was a mush of flesh, medicine and bandages. All of it was compressed together so the average watcher could not recognise anything distinguishable.

It was perfectly brutal.

Valyr brushed her gown down, flattening the creases. She slid the knife into it sheath and washed her hands thoroughly. Beside her, the patient grumbled and awoke from his post-surgical anaesthesia.

"Uh," he murmured. "Hello? H-How did it go?"

Valyr approached him with a gentle smile. She patted his shoulder. "It went wonderfully. With the course of antibiotics, we have assigned to you, you should make a full recovery and be ready for another few pool days before you return home."

* * *

**_Please enjoy comment!_**


	2. Approaching Fate

»»—- Violent Delights —-««

_What do violent individuals fear most?  
Violence? I should say not.  
By what do the cruel and selfish  
feel most threatened?  
All of them fear nothing  
as much as they fear love._

_Jan Phillip Sendker_

* * *

Chapter Two: Approaching Fate

**The Outer Rim of the Galaxy**

Merrily speeding past the Greater Javin, Bespin Hoth and Berrol's Donn, the Razor Crest continued on its journey towards the Outer Rim of the Galaxy. The Mandalorian preferred avoiding major trade routes of the galaxy. He advanced through the empty space between planets and moons like a hot knife through thala-siren butter.

It suspended his trade in the region of vigilante. His decommissioned gunship was utilised as a transport vessel for his bounties. It was his living quarters, carbonite chamber and hideout. With the universe as his garden it made life bearable; until he could return to the hideout on Nevarro.

Din watched the vertical speed indicator, adjusting the joystick as he entered Anthan airspace.

_"Clearance, Athan Spire Resort airspace,"_ a voice rattled through the comms.

"Anthan Spire, requesting clearance via Razor Quest," Din pushed the joystick forwards, continuing his descent. "Flight plan route for Inner city."

"_Anthan Spire cleared Razor Quest, Joka 2, flight plan route: departure frequency one-three-five, decimal niner, squawk four-seven-six-three," _ the air-traffic control droid said. Din programmed the numbers into his transponder, preparing the Razor Quest for the altitude change and route.

_"Razor Quest readback request." _

Din Djarin repeated the traffic-officer's information, having prepared his ship and himself for landing.

_"Hold abeam Joka 2, gate 47,"_ they said as the Razor Quest shuddered through the exosphere of Anthan Prime.

"Received," Din said. The resort was bustling as it breached the atmosphere's outer layer. Ships zoomed in front of Din's path; taxis, pleasure yachts and tours. Slightly grumbled by the overindulged disregard the planet had for manners, he switched his data feed into his helmet.

His visor came to life with non-visual and environmental information as well as a holographic view of his flightpath. The audio-visual sensors gave Din an intimate knowledge of his surroundings. In red, he saw the chit number and a dull red blip appeared.

The analytical data overtook the breath-taking beauty of the floating city. White spires, towers and lanterns drifted in and out of the visor's analysis; reading as concrete, marble or energy. Vast amounts of electricity was being absorbed and distributed throughout the resort. In the upper city, the readings were rapidly rising whereas the lower ridges of the hotels were falling.

Purple gases drifted on the horizon. The planet was uninhabitable despite its alluring lilac kisses. Din's visor lit up: _Carbon dioxide: 96.5 %, Sulfur dioxide: 150 ppm, Carbon monoxide: 17 ppm _and_ Nitrogen: 3.5 %. Lifeforce: 622,020,910,081_.

Narrowing his gaze, he imagined millions of bugs swimming through the toxic waste that was their planet. Only insects could survive such a harsh terrain. He imagined himself walking along the planet, stepping through the fog and emerging as a silver knight beneath the mauve gysers spewing their poison.

Shaking his head, he returned to his destination. Joka was one of seventy landing bays for the resort. Din soared into the hangar and was left suspended in a queue of guests. He came to a stop with only the jittering rumble of his engine as company. Below, guests were exiting their ships and stepping onto the landing bay.

They were dressed in rich attire; soft silks, rich velvets and capes dragging across the floor. Some were tipsy, stumbling towards the entrance to the Spire. It was a night of festivities; an extremely busy, bustling night. With so many eyes, none would be on Din's bounty.

"Good evening sir," a droid buzzed through the comms. Din snapped his head towards the right-side of his ship. His gaze unhappily meeting a transportation and greeting unit. Its bronze, square body hovered beside his ship, eagerly awaiting entrance. "May I park your vehicle?"

"I'll land it myself," he said.

"I insist, sir,"

"I'm fine," Din checked the lock system, his teeth clenched on his words. "I'll do it myself."

"It is a complimentary…"

"Back off," Din wrenched the blaster from a storage cabinet below his feet and thrust it outwards, holding it firmly in the face of the droid. If he had to destroy the window to destroy a droid, he would do so with a smile. "I will do it _myself_," he brushed his forefinger down the trigger. With a squeak, the droid waved his spindly arms and offered a blubbering apology.

Following its movements, Din wavered his blaster and finally lowered it. He squeezed his eyes together. The exhale he exhumed relaxed his taught chest. His armour was wearing thin; not so comfortable or sleek against his skin as it once was. It had been hammered to fit him, but years of battering and battle had crinkled it like bent paper.

Rolling his shoulders beneath the armour, he gritted his teeth as each metal plate icily slid together. Two underworld bounties would provide enough Beskar for him and half a dozen foundlings. How they would watch him strut out of their hideout and into the sunlight; a symbol of Mandalorian brother-ship.

Flexing his fingers around the joystick, he pushed his ship forward and descended into the iridescent city.

* * *

**Anthan Spire**

Valyr stared at the glass wall, one hand tucked beneath her head and the other clutching resting on the silk pillow. For hours, hot tears threatened to spill but she held in each drop. She tried to imagine she was in her chamber on Unroola Dawn, with moonlight streaming through the sky-window and warm wind making the curtains flutter like Geonosian wings.

A disgruntled snort pulled Unroola Dawn away from her. This was not the rebel alliance's company; this was a healer named Frode.

Valyr glanced back at the man with a rather empty exhale. His beard was plaited and packed full of rune bead. She was unsure which religion he worshipped, but his physical appearance told her he was quite devoted. His chest, arms and back were tattooed with red squares which overlapped and intertwined to express a geometric language unknown to the common eye.

He snorted and rolled over, reaching a lanky arm out towards her. "My Dad's gonna buzz through in a minute, if you don't mind… jogging on," he said. With an uncomfortable hiss, Valyr slipped off the bed and out of reach. Frode patted her empty place and settled for the pillow, pulling it to his body with a comfortable nuzzle.

It was almost sweet, but Valyr felt a pang of offense that he didn't bother to open his eyes and find a human body to cuddle not a fluffy mound of cloth. She gathered her veil and slipped her uniform back over her body; carrying her undergarments under one arm.

The healing quarters were busy as she entered the corridor. Servants were bustling, tripping and running around trying to complete their tasks before the Luna Feast. Usually, slaves had to be calm and reserved in the medical bay. One fell against Valyr shoulder and dropped a dozen towelettes across the floor.

Valyr clenched her teeth. She turned on her heel and hurriedly bundled the servant's bits back into her possession.

"Blessed be with you," the servant stuttered, her cheeks flaming bright red.

Valyr touched the woman's hand briefly and squeezed it. "Calm. It's _'benevolences be with you_.'"

"Benevolences… Benevolences be with you," she repeated. "I'm such a mess."

"This place is a mess. You fit in."

"Anka," the woman shook Valyr's hand, with somewhat of a fierce strength. The two women stood back up. "I'm a healer as well."

Valyr smiled tightly, brushing down her uniform. "Fantastic."

"Will you be at the Lunar Feast?" Anka pressed, holding onto the conversation which lasted several minutes too long for Valyr's liking.

"Yes, I will. I'm actually going to get ready now so… I should."

"You'll see me later, then." Anka held her towels tighter, her smile crinkling the wrinkles on her face.

"Fantastic," Valyr said again, retreating slightly. The hallway was getting busier, giving her sublime opportunity to slip into the crowd and disregard Anka's words. Frode's ignorance for her was tugging at her frontal lobe; blurring her judgement and ability to act morally decent.

How naïve Frode was to apathetically push her out of his bed. Using his father as an excuse. How beautifully lovely it would be to have a father that called their child. It must've been wonderful; excitedly waiting for the familiar hologram of a parent to pop up. Valyr imagined Frode's father was stout and hairy with a toothy smile that exhumed saliva whenever he spoke too fast.

Valyr felt heat in her eyes. It came quickly so she was forced to press her lips into a flat line. She burst through her chamber door and slammed it, frightening herself with the harsh bang. Her knuckles turned white as she held the handle – her very core wanted to squeeze the metal until it split and burst like a berry. It didn't. Intense anger, hatred and loss wracked her body. She released a frustrated cry and took hold of the closest object she could get her hands on.

It was a decorative vase blindly flying across the room and smashing against the clothing cabinet. It shattered and spat white crystals across the floor.

She clutched the necklace around her throat. It was a glass vial hanging on a white chain; cold and lost in the crevice of her collarbones. The soft grooves reminded Valyr of a time long gone. Perhaps there was a creature looking across the galaxy at the Yavin planet; and her past was still a present.

"Fuck you Frode," she hissed, storming across the room. "And fuck your father."

As she wrenched open the cabinet, the glass screeched beneath; hurting her ears. She clenched her teeth, her knuckles turning white on the door. With the other hand, she dug through the contents ahead of her until her nails scratched a hard surface.

Her red eyes drifted over the carbonite pod. She gently pressed her fingertips to the woman's face; her forehead, eyelids and cheeks. So smooth it was beneath her touch that she forgot it was a living being. Deep regret filled her, but also an overpowering sense of self-importance. Valyr had to be there and Nír had to be frozen in time.

They'd met briefly when Valyr was scouting the area for a possible disguise. Nír was perfect; mundane, unintimidating and boring.

_The grandiose narcissism of the Anthan Spire Resort was reflected in its parties. With the expansion of the West Wing, they hired three hundred healers, servers and escorts to accommodate the new-suites, villas and cabanas. In the Eastern Great Hall, a celebration took place the night of Valyr's arrival. _

_She held her flute goblet gracefully, studying the guests with an egotistical air about her. The purple dress hung over her figure, cascading off her hips and onto the floor. It hid her scruffy boots and although she'd tried to scrub the mud off them, they remained filthy. _

_She lifted the goblet to her lips. Sweet wine kissed them, but it was allowed no further. After an elegant moment, she lowered the glass and licked her lips. _

_As it was nearing the middle of the party, many guests were disappearing with one another. Human desire change. It was rather humorous to watch middle-aged beings succumb to a need they didn't bother to hide behind maturity. _

_Valyr straightened her posture and headed for a woman who also stood alone. If the numbers in the room continued to dwindle, then her presence would be more noticeable. Large parties were the most intimate. _

_"Benevolences be with you," Valyr feigned another sip as she came to a stop beside the woman. "That's what they say here." _

_It was a petite woman in a puff-sleeved gown "Mm. I've heard." _

_"What have you hired you for?" _

_"I'm a healer." _

_With that, Valyr knew she had her match. She grinned over her goblet, looking at the woman over the rim with a flirtatious gaze. _

_"Yes," the woman continued, sensing Valyr's tonal change. "I know all about how the body works. Mirialan… Zabrak… Human."_

_"Do you have a preference?" _

_The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" _

_Valyr's smirk intensified. Her cheeks were heating up. In a moment of weakness, she pushed the goblet to her lips and drank it all in one tart, shivering gulp. To the great pleasure of both of them, the woman took ahold of Valyr's hand and pulled her out of the Great Hall and up a winding staircase. _

Upon entering her room, Valyr indulged in a beautifully erotic kiss. Everything tasted of rich berries. For the few moments it lasted, Valyr forgot about the dramatic landing on Anthan, the stolen units and forgery. Then, she pressed a vial of medicinal anethestic into Nír's neck.

_Breathing heavily, Valyr collapsed against the bedside table and shoved a piece of hair out of her face. She glanced down at the unconscious woman and prodded her cheek with a toe, making sure she was in a deep slumber. _

_"Great at kissing," she mumbled, pulling a carbonite chit from the garter around her thigh. "Terrible at combat." Adjusting the settings on the equipment, she separated the chit and placed four square electronic pieces around the woman's body. Having swiped the identification badge from the woman, she studied it as the carbonite grew over the body. _

_"Nír OP-4," she observed. "From a droid planet. That must've been a cold childhood. No wonder you couldn't hold a conversation. Just desperate for human touch." _

Carbonite was a medical miracle for dying patients. You could freeze someone who was all alone and waiting for loved ones to travel a million miles. The melting process was ugly and painful, but those on the edge of death didn't notice much difference between that and waking up. As cruel as Valyr was for stealing Nír's life, at least she had years of it left.

"Or at least that's what I tell myself," Valyr covered Nír's figure with a fluffy coat and scraped the hangers across until she found her lilac dress. It was angelically soft; silky like the petal of a flower. In Anthan tradition, she was dressed richly and hiding an ugly, deceitful interior.

After bathing, washing her tears down the drain as well as yogre germs, Valyr slipped into the dress and discarded her healing garments. It was a single-sleeved gown. The cool evening air was delicious on her bare arm. For once, she wasn't sweating under her heavy uniform. If one of those bourgeoisie bastards got into a fight, she'd surely throttle them because she'd have to change and stop the celebrations.

Her vial hung on her neck, not matching the dress, but sitting there as a reminder of a past so raw that Valyr could scarcely allow herself to dwell on it too long; or she would crack open the glass bottle and burn her insides.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

There was a knock at her door.

* * *

**Comments**:

**ManetteNevada**: Two comments! I'm so happy you enjoyed the first chapter. I will be writing daily for this story and plan on uploading every several days! Thank you for reading xx

** .2019**: Thank you, my love! x

**Naria4**: Yay! Always a pleasure to wake up and see a new comment! I hope you enjoy this small update x

**Almj31**: Wahey! That's brilliant to read! Writing styles are so subjective but I'm enthralled with the response. Happy Reading! xx


	3. The Lunar Feast

»»—- Violent Delights —-««

_One simply cannot engage in barbarous action  
without becoming a barbarian ...  
one cannot defend human values by calculated  
and unprovoked violence  
without doing mortal damage to the values  
one is trying to defend._

J. William Fulbright, The Arrogance of Power

* * *

Chapter Three: The Lunar Feast

"Nír?" Hek sang from the corridor, whacking the door again with the palm of her hand. Her stomping feet and strength were camouflaged by her slender form.

Valyr rubbed her temple, exhaling deeply. She took the moment to herself; one final, precious second to prepare for her friend's company. Then she brushed her dress down, pushed a coiled curl behind her ear and reached for the doorhandle. Everything in her room was neat. Not a frame hung haphazardly, nor the duvet lay creased.

"One moment!" Her wardrobe was closed. The secret leaning within it was hers alone. Valyr opened the door, sweeping up Hek in a squealing embrace. "You look wonderous."

"And you, rather benevolent," she grinned, raising a wicked eyebrow. They swept out of her chamber and down the corridor. The iridescent clutch in Valyr's hand was cold. Within it was an inconspicuous pen which hid a blade inside.

"Isn't it freeing?" Hek ran a hand through her sleek hair. It rippled over her shoulders and down her back, glistening in the evening light. "I scarcely remember what it was like at home when I was allowed it down all the time."

"I prefer it hidden," Valyr admitted. "Keeps patients away. The stalkers."

"Oh," Hek gushed. "I love the chase."

"It's frivolous. Who has time to fraternise?" They rounded a corner, entering a darkened hallway where lanterns hung on the rafters and servers presented them with flutes of wine. "When the world is always… so hateful?" She took a glass, holding it under her nose.

Hek sipped hers. "Well, that is not benevolent of you. Was your time with Frode not pleasant?"

"He wanted me to leave so he could have a chat with his Father."

"Ah. You know, you never speak of yours. Touchy subject?"

"Definitely not. I'm glad to have escaped. My parents were-are putridly overbearing." Holding her head high, she looked down at the other guests walking towards the entrance hall. For a few moments, she held her teeth tightly together and held her glass with distaste. Hek pulled her curious gaze away from her, staring in wonder at the Lunar decorations coming into view.

Valyr reached for a floating crescent moon. It was silky to touch, shimmering at the sensation of her fingers. "What are we celebrating again?" she followed Hek towards the main hall.

"We are not celebrating." Hek pointed to the gathering of rich guests. "They are."

With a huff of discontent, she stared. "I forgot we were child-minders."

"They can't control their anger or their money. It's a celebration of the Anthan's moons. All twenty-seven of them. It's a shame they don't throw a separate party for each one."

"Ball gown shopping is quite pleasing," Valyr smiled, bumping Hek's shoulder.

"We'll definitely need to find you a pair of new shoes," she grabbed Valyr's skirts and lifted them to reveal boots. "You should be arrested."

Valyr pretended to punch her shoulder. "Maybe it'll be us two heading to the infirmary instead."

Hek pushed her back, snorting, "don't tempt me."

Mykes strolled between the champagne socialists, greeting and offering drinks to them. The head of the Healing Sanctuary caught Valyr's eye and beckoned them over. With a pale hand, he presented the two women. His purple eyes were bright with excitement. "As I have reassured, we have the best healers in the galaxy under our wing, Senator."

The rickety man nodded, ruffling his silk overcoat as he reached for Valyr. "Nír OP-4," she took the hand of the superior, bowing her head respectfully. "Eternal blessings to you, Senator."

The man pressed a thumb into her palm, "and you, angel," he simmered.

With a bow, the Myke dismissed them. "And we have your best interests at heart in case your offspring are involved in any… mishaps."

"Bastard children," the senator grumbled. "I'd have ejected them into space if I could." The Myke laughed heartily as Valyr and Hek shared a look, walking away.

"I've never met a family that is genuinely happy," Valyr said. "Not one."

"I suppose mine was… before my fifteenth brother was born half Qiraash. Took some pushing to get his ginormous cranium out of my mother."

"What did you Father do?"

"He stayed, albeit a part of him knew he hadn't help produce a kid with a big brain." Hek linked her arm with Valyr's as they reached the bar. "Fake happiness is the worst kind anyway."

The Themian barman offered them a menu. His rich purple robes and floor-length hair was startling against the white decorations. With eyes as dark as coal, he was alluringly attractive. He was a sentient species from the Inner Rim planet of Themis. They usually lived on their home-planet, under the rule of King Lumon. Valyr wondered if he was on the run as well.

She picked a fruit drink.

"That senator though," Hek said. "You let him hold onto your hand long enough. I nearly ripped his arm off pulling away."

"I have manners. Besides," Valyr raised an eyebrow, "no one touches me unless I want them to."

"And allowing him to assault your hand was acceptable?"

"It pays to have powerful friends."

"Pays to keep your lady garden under lock and key." Hek shivered. "Who knows what ghosts are crawling around the skin of his…"

"Hek…" Valyr shot her a testy look which the woman met with a repressed giggle. "Speaking of phantoms, didn't you promise Gon a dance?"

"Are you insinuating my lover is a menace?"

Valyr sipped her mocktail. "Am I?" she grinned.

"On the Gods," Hek rolled her eyes, shoving her wine in Valyr's hand. "You're the menace. Drink up and find yourself a lover." Valyr went to open her mouth but Hek flared her nostrils. "Definitely not the senator."

With that, Hek disappeared in a flurry of azure. Her hair billowed behind her. Valyr's amused smile slipped off her face. She suddenly felt very alone. Maybe returning to Frode's abysmal company wasn't such a bad idea.

As she leaned against the bar, she studied the guests. The orchestra hummed an ethereal tune, enchanting the listeners to dance amongst the floating stars. Several server droids wheezed between them, holding platters of flower-crackers. The lights dimmed.

Hek would've been fun to dance with. She would've laughed, urging Valyr to join in and be content for several minutes. The Senator swayed with a young Myke, whispering in her ear and spinning her gently. His hands were on her waist, not to low but in the crook of the Myke's waist.

Valyr let her free hand drift up her side, wishing for company. She glanced at the entryway and spotted a group of leather-clad men. They were glaring around the room with their fists clenched. That was the wrong type of company.

With an uncomfortable cough, she drained her glass of fruit and distractedly played with the rim of Hek's wine.

The ironclad hunters stomped into the crowd, disappearing for a short while. Valyr stared ahead, focusing on them as they popped between gaps. It was obvious they were on the hunt for something.

Her gaze drifted to the other side of the room. The colour drained from her face. A chilling breeze swept over her, sending goose bumps up her arms. She gripped the flute in her hand, threatening to break it into a thousand pieces. It was an angel of death; a bringer of the afterlife. It was a seal on the letter that was doom.

It was a Mandalorian.

Valyr hurried towards an archway out of the hall. Her shoes drummed on the ground as she began to sprint towards a corridor lined with a balcony. The floating decorations swished above her, startled by her pace and flurry.

A beep echoed far away. It was familiar and gut-wrenching.

Valyr shot a look behind her, hurrying around a corner and down the hall with her dress clutched in her hand.

Noises echoed from the room at the end of the corridor. Gasping, she shot a desperate look down the hall. She burst through an unlocked storage room and slammed it shut with her heart hammering against the roof of her chest.

Furious beeping crept closer to her.

And the moronic forthcoming of her attackers

"Here!" someone shouted. "Oi!"

"Who, in fuck, are you?"

Another stomped close to the door. "Might ask you the same question?"

"My chit is gonna explode," a man bellowed. "It's one of you bastards!"

* * *

**The Western Sky Corridor**

Din Djarin sauntered out of the hall and through the maze of psychedelic halls. The air was swamped with silver glitter, raining down upon the guests in a euphoric curtain. It reflected off his visor, creating a void of darkness for any onlooker.

The chit in his hand dully beeped. He found he was edging closer to the bounty as he turned a corner.

He held the chit up, watching the red light quicken and turned into another hallway. An uproar of shouting and squabbling caught his attention. He stood deathly still, unwavering in the middle of the space.

"What a fucking mess," he muttered, taking a loud step forward. The bounty hunters fell silent, still clutching one another, but turning to stare at the Mandalorian. All were putridly ugly and unkept. It appeared the Client was desperate for these two beings and was willing to send any scum after them. The scum never succeeded which was why he needed Din Djarin.

A proud and snotty smirk grew on his lips. "Have I interrupted?"

"'Ere for the bounty, ain't we?" one yakked. "'Urry along pretty boy."

"You can't see his face," the second sneered.

"Shut it, you!"

The third seethed, reeling back a fist. "You back off. This one here is mine."

Spitting his words, the first hunter held the second with his hands still. "It be mine." They erupted into a choir of grunting, growling and shouting. Din lost track of which hunter clutched which and whether one of them was the bounty he sought.

The chit bleeped quickly in his hand. "Which one of you fools am I after?" he demanded loudly.

"Not me!" they all cried. The bald man trapped between another's thighs huffed and puffed, his face bright red. "I lost my puck!" he cried, "I dropped it in the hall!"

"Liar," the hunter pressed his fingers into the man's eyeballs.

Screaming the potential bounty, clawed at his face. "I swear!"

There was a disturbing accumulation of grunts, growls and grumbles from behind the door. Valyr chewed her fingernail; biting down and spitting out a little piece. She didn't particularly want to stop the hunters murdering an innocent… hunter. Were they innocent? Valyr couldn't take the moral high ground with much; definitely not murder.

She exhaled, letting her head drop back so she could stare at the ceiling. Gum, wet tissue and liquid stained it. She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth.

Her smirk slipped from her face. She rubbed her eyes furiously until they began to water and sting. After a quick exhale, she shakily opened the door and stared out. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with tears and fear.

The men slumped against the floor, staring at her as she emerged. She peered at each of them fully. "What… what's happening?" she shivered. Each one watched her in brute fascination. From the bald, the plump, the bearded and the Mandalorian, she stared at each for several seconds and repeated herself.

The bald hunter scrambled to his feet. "Nothin', my lady. S'well. Just in a bit of a tustle, s'all." With a harsh swipe, another hunter smacked him in the face. It sent him crashing into the Mandalorian's side.

Din backhanded the man for his audacity.

"Be on your way, fair lady," the plump one offered, swinging a hand out and pointing towards the end of the corridor. Valyr bowed her head, wiping a tear away. She edged out of the storage room and against the wall. "Won't hurt ye'. Yer not involved," he said, scratching his open head wound.

"O-Of course," she played, "I'm sorry."

"Just bounty business," he continued. Valyr's eyes snapped up to the Mandalorian, who watched her silently and unabashedly. She apologised again, forcing her narrative on him and praying he was as pathetic as the others.

His race was legendary throughout the galaxy. She knew her luck was running out on Anthan Prime. An itch within her mind told her he was her downfall.

"Wait," he said, his voice cutting through her like a dagger crystallised with ice. She stepped back again and in turn, he moved forward. "Don't move," he took out his tracking fob. Their gathering stared at it as the red beep flashed. It was quick, like a drumbeat.

Valyr tilted her head, her eyes drifting up to the Mandalorian's face. In the darkness of his visor, she imagined a pair of greedy, unforgiving eyes. The faux fear slipped out of her expression as he took another step. And another. His steel boots shook the ground beneath her feet, sweeping up every inch of her façade until she was within touching distance.

The fob blared relentlessly. It screeched its answer, earning a gasp from the amateur hunters. They scrambled to their feet, half-conscious and prepared.

Din Djarin lowered the fob, tilting his head down at her. A knowing grin crept up Valyr's face. She raised a hand, mimicking the surrendering pose of a fool. In the second she knew the Mandalorian was allowing her to do so, she shoved a hand into her hair and whipped a needle from the curls.

Throwing it sideways, she shot the poisonous dart into the neck of one of the hunters. He fell back with a cry, slumping against the wall. The third hunter revealed a blaster, shoving it against Valyr's head.

Din grasped his own blaster, his Beskar steel future flashing as a memory. "They want her alive!" he snapped.

"I will kill her!" he snapped.

"You don't have the balls," Valyr spat. Throwing a leg out, she kicked the hunter in the shin. He buckled over, his gun shooting at the Mandalorian who stumbled back in surprise. With his hefty weight, the hunter fell forwards and slammed against Valyr. It knocked the breath from her lungs.

Her head collided with the concrete wall, earning a groan. The blurred vision made it difficult to distinguish where she was grappling as she scratched the hunter's face and chest. The silk dress was too constricting for her to lift her legs and jab a knee into his underside; preferably the thing between his thighs.

Din watched the hunter push a sweaty hand against Valyr's face, clamping her mouth. With the other hand, he pressed the end of the blast against her temple and seethed a string of curses. He clenched his fist, storming towards the hunter.

Valyr's vision stabilised. She stared up as the shining barrel, sensing its cold malice on her skin. Then, there was a crack. The weight from her legs was gone, as was the gun. It all lay a meter from her, having been punched off and into oblivion.

Valyr's head snapped back to the Mandalorian. She crawled to her feet and was a sick, pitiful smirk on her lips as she feigned courage.

Din breathed heavily from his enraged beating and watched her carefully through the electronic visor analysing every inch of the corridor. She was mundanely human; with an inhumane price on her head. The slight appearance suggested she hadn't feasted as well as any Anthan occupier should have; nor had she slept in many moons. The racing heartbeat flashed up on his monitor. He wouldn't have guessed she was on the verge of hyperventilating. The cool exterior was polished and refined.

"Come on then," she breathed. "Join the others in Hell, why don't you?"

"After I hand you in," he clenched his fist and dove, grabbing the blaster from the floor and fluidly raising it. Valyr had also sprung to action. With a sonic spear in her hands, she levelled with the Mandalorian and stared at him through the scope.

They shot in unison; in a sloppy, unprepared conundrum of battle. Din attempted to frighten her; craving the Beskar which came with her living form. The conjoined blasts of their shots sent a high-pitched screech through the hall, throwing Valyr off balance. Her shot ricocheted down the corridor.

Din ducked.

Clutching her ear, Valyr shot blindly at him and scampered away. She stumbled towards the door and shot again. Din's hard-faced armour caught both shots. They rippled through him, causing his falter and Valyr's escape. She burst through the archway and into the entrance hall.

Guests loitered. The music too loud and distracting for any of them to notice Valyr and Din's scrat. She tripped against a marble wall, feigning drunkenness and continued towards the gallery.

The Mandalorian was in wavering pursuit. He stormed out of the corridor and after Valyr, shoving his blaster away and hold his fists tightly. The guards chatted lazily against the walls, half-drunk but unbothered by his appearance. With a slurred whistle, they called out for Valyr's attention. She shot a hiss back, her eyes sliding to Din.

Venom flashed. He swore he saw her bare teeth and then scuttle around the corner like a snake, or underground creature pulled from hiding.

In steady pursuit, he followed.

The celebration had morphed into a slanderous catfight. Groups of guests huddled with one another, cursing and preparing to throw punches. Glass flutes lay broken, cracking beneath Din's boots. There was a vivid stench of burning wafting underneath his helmet.

"Mandalorian!" someone cried, rushing to him. The man took hold of his arm, gripping the armour tightly. Din stared down at him in disgusted annoyance. "I will pay you if you assassinate that woman over there," throwing a finger in the direction of a frail woman wearing a thick string of Perloz pearls. "She stole my inheritance fund!"

Another woman appeared, distracting the man, "she's his wife, you stupid git."

"She's a thief!"

Din wrenched his arm out of the man's grasp. "I'm not a slave. Especially to the rich."

A scream echoed from the middle of the hall. "The Senator's son!"

In the hostility of opposing gangs and underworld drug wars, the resort always transformed into a battlefield. Albeit small, the casualties were always guaranteed.

Valyr pushed through the raging crowd, bursting into a small clearing where the Senator gripped his son's limp body. Blood pooled from his abdomen. She rushed forward, her fingers pressing against his neck to find a weak pulse.

"He's alive," she said, her eyes darting up to several approaching officers. Hek shoved through the onlookers, holding her ballgown tightly. In the few seconds, Valyr had to spare, she analysed the boy quickly and accurately. "Puncture wound to the periumbilical region. Looks like an infraumbilical stab wound."

Word spread quickly. The off-duty medical officers flew a stretcher into the room, heaving the boy onto it. He gasped, shooting to consciousness and immediately began to cry. "It was the Hell's Angels!" he blubbered, throwing a bloody finger around the room. "It was them, Father!"

"He stole from us!" a deep voice cawed. Valyr scoffed, clambering to her feet. Her dress was ruined, quickly staining with the boy's blood. She should've expected it, but annoyance crossed her features as she followed the casualty.

Hek cursed under her breath, brushing up against her bare arm. "I was in the skytower with Gon," she said, envisioning the passionate affair. "I was about to climax!"

Valyr eyed the crowd, scanning the faces; the purple, blue and red bodies of guests. None of them were steel; silver and shining soldiers. Clenching her teeth, she took ahold of her skirts and fell into line beside the Senator.

In the roar of the crowd, a low beep echoed. The Mandalorian watched the healers swiftly ascend, soon to be dressed in white and unrecognisable. His gaze fell on the lilac dress as it dragged over the porcelain surface. His bounty held her skirts took high for a moment, flashing a pair of brown, lace boots.

* * *

Comments:

naria4 - aaah! thank you for reading! How did you find their first meeting. Its slightly peculiar and foreboding, but they will meet again! Happy reading xx

.2019 - thank you for commenting and enjoying the second chapter! I hope this has continued the fiction well! Happy reading xx


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